


Clothe the wold and meet the sky

by Vampiric_Charms



Series: Feeding the sheep is prohibited [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiric_Charms/pseuds/Vampiric_Charms
Summary: A surprise gift from an old acquaintance.  Unfortunate implications in a letter from someone who has no idea what they may have done.  Mairon panics just a little, Melkor doesn’t notice (what with his new gift and all).  All part of a normal afternoon, surely.  Part of the Feeding the Sheep is Prohibited AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenAirSheep](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GreenAirSheep).



> This is written as a request/gift for GreenAirSheep, who wanted an expansion on the story in this AU with Aulë. I started thinking and suddenly remembered a handful of people who grabbed onto the idea that he was the one who grabbed Melkor’s hat at the end of that story...and then this was all I could think of from there. (Let it be known that Aulë really is acting from innocence here; poor guy has no idea what he almost did.)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“Melkor?”

Mairon returned to the cottage from his forge, nudging the front door open with his foot and then the side of his body as he sidled inside.  He held a nondescript box in his hands, gazing down at it curiously as he walked inside.  It was a decent size, though not terribly heavy, and he could feel something sliding back and forth inside.  

“Hello, are you listening to me?” he called again, glancing up as he set the box down on a large table in the dining area.  “Where have you _gone_?”  

As if in answer, a thud and crash came from the next room, followed by the sound of wolf claws scuttling across the wooden floor and then Melkor’s heavy footfalls preceding his appearance in the doorway.   He had a disheveled look about him, and he pursed his lips in an attempt to diminish his guilty expression.  

“I dropped something,” he said by way of explanation to the unasked question.  Mairon narrowed his eyebrows, not buying the weak story, and Melkor scratched the back of his head.  “I tripped over Draugluin and we knocked the bookshelf over.  You should tell him not to sleep there, really, it was his fault.  I picked it up!” he continued defensively when Mairon merely frowned.  “Nothing broke.”

Mairon finally sighed and shook his head, deciding not to go down that path just then.  “Right.  I found this on a bench in my forge.  Do you know what it is?”

The disgruntled pinch left Melkor’s face and he came fully into the room, curious as he stared down at the plain, unmarked box when Mairon gestured to it.  He lifted it and peered around the edges and corners.  “It’s not yours?”

“No.”

“Let’s open it, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response - which they both knew would likely have been in the negative to such a thing - Melkor set the box down again and pried his fingers under the lid, lifting it effortlessly from the rest.  They both looked cautiously inside and blinked down at the contents, half expecting something to leap out and bite them.  But a woven straw hat was nestled there amongst paper wrappings that had come loose during transport - or during Melkor’s rough handling.  Rather harmless, really.  A golden eagle feather was stuck in the band, giving it all a very regal finish.    

Melkor reached forward eagerly and snatched it up, already moving to place it on his head with a triumphant little cry.  “It is exactly like the one I’ve missed!  Except this feather, I don’t like this much.”

Mairon watched him for a moment, baffled, before digging through the wrapping tissue, pulling it out piece by piece.  A small bit of parchment was folded at the bottom.  He withdrew it, already recognizing the scrawling lines of print before he began to read.  “It’s a gift,” he said softly and with great surprise.  “From Aulë.”

Melkor paused in his stride to the mirror, a scowl pulling at his face.  “Aulë?  Why would he be sending us a hat?”  He looked, suddenly, as though he wanted to pull it from his head and rip it to pieces, his excitement quite gone.

“He says…”  Mairon read quickly, feeling the confusion and anger as quickly as it built around them.  The letter quite clearly said Aulë took the hat while he was visiting, from Melkor as he slept, with the intention of bringing it back to Valinor as proof of their farm.  Manwë, he explained, wanted something of Melkor’s to -

Mairon abruptly lowered the parchment, the tips of his ears turning red, and decided all of this was beyond his conception of bizarre.  _Valar and their games_.  

“He claims he overheard you before he left,” he thought quickly, “when you mentioned a sheep ruined your old one.  He wished to replace it, as an apology for intruding on our home.”  

That part, at least, was correct.  _I felt horrible guilt for my theft and immediately wished to right the situation_ , the letter read. _Unfortunately the original hat was damaged after I presented it, and I was unable to repair it to a suitable fashion.  Please take this newly made piece in its place as apology for both the thievery and for my intrusion on your hospitality._

Mairon blinked, wide-eyed, at the letter again as Melkor accepted his version on the truth without further question, his previous excitement returning.  He walked to the door, where bright afternoon sunshine was still streaming inside, and tilted his head this way and that to see how the hat blocked the fierce rays.  The wide brim seemed to do a magnificent job, if his pleased expression was any indication.

 _I went to great efforts to have our best milliners here in Valinor create a hat I hope your Lord Melkor will get wonderful use from,_ Aulë explained in a voice Mairon could almost hear as terribly excited.   _I am hoping it fits him well, as I even used measurements from Lord Manw_ _ë’_ _s own head for the customizations.  He doesn’t know, of course, he thinks he is getting his own hat, you see._

Mairon choked and sank into a chair at the table.

“It fits so exactly,” Melkor was saying, thankfully not hearing the small outburst of sound from the other side of the room as he continued to admire himself in a mirror near the door.  He was tapping the top of the hat, settling it snugly against his head with a wide smile, when Mairon finally dragged his eyes up.

Mairon discreetly ripped the bottom of the parchment off, lighting it aflame as he did so.  Ashes floated onto his breeches, staining the doeskin in a way he would usually be appalled by.  “Does it, now?” he said in a controlled tone that was still a little too tight as he fought between hysterical laughter and outright panic at what he just read, even if the words were quite burned away.  “How lovely.  Yes, very lovely.  Lovely indeed.”

“You’re not even looking,” Melkor grumbled, turning away from the mirror to glare back into the dining room.  “What is so fascinating in that letter that you will not even listen when I’m speaking to you?”

Mairon lit the entire thing on fire with that, right there between his hands, and let the ashes and smoldering pieces fall to the floor.  “Nothing.”

Melkor opened his mouth to speak again and Mairon interrupted him before he could.  “Let’s go outside, shall we?  I’d like to see you test your new hat to the elements.”  He strode across the room and linked his arm through the Vala’s.  He swiftly plucked the eagle feather from the brim and set it on fire, as well, not watching as it vanished into flame.

Melkor, though, glared down at him for a moment with a slightly grudging expression even if he _was_ pleased the father was gone.  “You are acting very odd all of a sudden,” he muttered as he allowed Mairon to steer him again toward the door.  “Should we send Aulë’s strange gift back?  It is making you uncomfortable.”

“Do not dwell on it,” Mairon said with a softening grin.  

He paused on the threshold, where the front door was still left open to allow sunshine to stream inside, and turned his face upward to gaze into Melkor’s.  His smile widened to reach his eyes with a genuine twinkle that came so easily now as he raised his hand to flick at the brim of Melkor’s hat with a finger.  It flopped upwards for a long comical second and then fell back down over his eyes.  

“It looks good on you,” Mairon observed, noticing for the first time now that other obstacles were removed from thought.  Sunlight fell across Melkor’s face, caught by the hat’s brim to cast a wide shadow.  “Why would you ever return such a gift when it makes you appear so very _fetching_?  No, no, love, all is well.”

They walked outside together into the bright afternoon, Melkor already calling a warning to the sheep not to eat his newest possession.  



End file.
